


Good Clean Fun

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Bookstores, Cats, Cleaning, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lust, M/M, Snark, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: Ty has the urge to clean, Zane's urges are of a different kind.





	Good Clean Fun

Ty strode out from the back of the store, planted himself in front of the windows, jammed his hands on his hips and frowned.

"The windows need cleaned," he promptly announced.

On his high stool behind the counter, Zane stifled the urge to groan. It was ten o'clock in the goddamn morning on Thursday the twenty-seventh of March, and the moment he'd been dreading for several weeks had arrived.

Ty had gone into Spring Cleaning Mode.

"They're fine," Zane said, trying to head The Ritual Cleansing off at the pass.

Ty gave him a quizzical stare. "How the hell can you say they're fine?" He jerked his chin at the dirt-speckled panes. "Look at them. They're _filthy_. And you know how much I can't stand filth."

Zane snorted quietly into his mug. "That mean I'm on a sex ban again?" He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Unless you know how to have sex without being a filthy bastard." Which Zane was pretty sure Ty didn't. Sure, Ty could do tender, gentle and soft, but usually while also being a filthy bastard at the same time.

He ducked as Ty threw a pen at his head.

"Not that kind of filth, Garrett. _Real_ filth. The kind that's made out of dirt and grime." Ty gestured at the store front again. "The kind that's all over our goddamn windows."

"The forecast says it's gonna rain at the start of next week," Zane pointed out. "Let the weather take care of it for you."

Ty shook his head. "No can do. I need to clean, and I need to clean _now_." He clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Cleanliness is next to godliness, and I feel the need to get in touch with my spiritual side." He strode off to the rear of the store, no doubt to find a sponge and a bucket of water.

"You don't need to clean to do that, doll," Zane shouted after him. "Gimme five minutes, I'll have you praying to God like you're about to die."

"Later, babe. No time for that kind of religion right now."

Zane sighed and went back to his book. He'd tried his best, but Ty was obviously a man on a mission, and nothing—not even the offer of some kind of sex—was enough to divert him from his path. He could only hope Ty's urge to clean would pass once the windows were done, and that he wouldn't also decide to steam clean the floors. The floors were a larger task than the windows—more than one man could really manage, even when the man in question was someone as driven and focused as Ty. Zane knew he would feel obliged to give Ty a hand, and if there was one thing he hated doing, it was cleaning. He would honestly rather be shot in the leg than bring out a mop or a can of furniture polish.

Scratch that. He would honestly rather be shot in the leg, _then_ have a rectal exam, _then_ be vigorously fucked by every guy in the goddamn street than spend so much as a _minute_ cleaning. It wasn't that he didn't like the store or the house to be tidy, he just wanted somebody else to do the work for him.

A few minutes later, Ty reappeared, carrying a sponge, a squeegee, a small set of folded-up steps and a bucket full of hot, soapy water. As he passed the counter, he paused and said, "You're okay to deal with the store, right?"

Zane scanned around, struggling to find the shelves of books through the crowd of zero people. "Think I can just about manage the throngs on my own," was his deadpan reply. "I'll give you a shout if it all gets too much."

But Ty was laser-focused now—the sarcasm sailed right over his head. He strode out the door, tools in hand, ready to battle the dirt and the grime.

A few moments later, a sponge squeaked across the glass. In the wooden crate they still used as a bed, Jiminy and Cricket came wide awake, startled by the sudden sound. Cricket's ears flattened against her head, while Jiminy looked round, searching for an attacking foe. Ty paused just long enough to rattle his fingers on the window and give his fur babies a smile and a wave. Her tail now swishing, Cricket chirped back.

As Ty resumed his cleaning duties, dragging the sponge across the pane, Cricket followed his every move, patting the soapy path with her paws. The hunt continued, back and forth, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, until Ty froze completely still, then suddenly pushed the sponge towards the sky. Cricket—never a cat to shy away from a challenge—grumfed, hunched, wiggled her butt then launched herself three feet in the air, determined to catch her watery prey.

Zane winced as she thunked into the glass, then shot out of his chair with a curse as she promptly slid down it, paws scrabbling as she went. With a plaintive wail, she plummeted into the gap between the window and shelf.

Ty paused and peered through the pane, a stricken look of concern on his face. To his relief, a few seconds later, Cricket meowed and leaped back up onto the ledge, ready for the next round of the chase, daring her human to do his worst.

Beside her, Jiminy almost dismissively yawned, curled up and went back to sleep. Window washing wasn't exciting enough for him.

It didn't take long for Cricket to tire as well. When she finally flopped onto her side, exhausted by her futile pursuit, Ty pressed two fingers to his lips, then smiling, touched it to the now squeaky-clean glass right in front of her face. Cricket stretched out, patting the spot on the window with her paw.

Ty looked at Zane, now back on his stool, grinned, shrugged, then winked and blew him a soap-covered kiss.

Zane's innards turned to goo.

Ty unfolded the set of steps, paused to dunk the sponge in the bucket, then climbed to the top to clean the highest part of the glass. As he stretched up, his white Henley pulled out of his jeans, exposing the waistband of his shorts and a toned, tanned strip of flesh.

The goo receded, instead, Zane felt his abdomen clench.  _Dammit, Garrett, get a hold of yourself. It's ten o'clock in the goddamn morning, and the two of you have a bookstore to run. Turn around, drink your coffee and think about something boring instead. Do not look at what your husband is doing._

To Zane's credit, he actually tried, but the sight of Ty washing that goddamn window was more than his libido could bear.

Ty paused again as some water ran down his arm and dripped onto his face. He grabbed the hem of his soap-splattered shirt and used it to wipe the moisture away.

 _Do not take your t-shirt off_, Zane silently pleaded. _You take that shirt off, you'll be totally fucked, and I mean that in the literal way._

Someone let out a very strange sound—a cross between a sigh and a moan. It took Zane a couple of seconds to realize the noise hadn't come from him.

He spun around, and jumped as he discovered the source. There was a goddamn customer in the store, standing barely a metre away, clutching a pile of books to her chest. Jesus. When the _fuck_ had she even come in?

Whoever she was, she was obviously just as impressed as him with Ty's impromptu cleaning routine. Her eyes were wide, her mouth was hanging slightly open, and the look on her face was a mixture of lust, amazement and shock. She was young enough to be Ty's daughter, and she was absolutely _loving_ the view.

Zane coughed politely, breaking the spell. She tore her gaze away from the view to focus on him instead. He gave her a smile and a wave. "Hi, there," he said. "You need some help with those?"

Her eyes briefly flitted to the window again, then she blushed, nodded and flashed a smile back. "I'll take these, please," she said, laying the pile of books on the desk.

Zane scanned the barcodes one by one, glad to have something slightly less stimulating to do, if only for a couple of minutes. A total popped up on the laptop screen. "That'll be fifty-three dollars and seventy-two cents," he said. "How would you like to pay?"

"Oh, yeah, uh, that'll be cash?" The customer rummaged around in her purse to draw out three twenty dollar notes.

As Zane opened the drawer to drop in the notes and make up her change, she leaned over the desk and asked, "You wouldn't happen to know if he's single, would you?"

"Who?"

She pointed at Ty, who had finished the washing part of his task, and was now dragging the squeegee down the window in precise, controlled, perfect strokes. "Him. You work with him, right?"

Zane smiled as he handed over her change. "I work with him, yeah."

"So, uh, is he single?"

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm afraid that one's taken."

"Yeah, but _how_ taken?" she asked with a brazen grin.

" _Extremely_ taken," Zane replied, holding up his left hand to wiggle his tattooed ring finger at her.

Her eyes went wide again. "He's married to you?"

"He certainly is."

Her hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh, my God, I'm _so_ sorry," she blurted. She giggled and bit her lip. "I hope I didn't embarrass you."

Zane waved her concern away. "Takes a _lot_ more than that to embarrass me. You're good." He tapped on the book at the top of the pile. "Would you like a bag for these?"

"What? Oh, please, yes, that'd be great."

Zane squatted down to pluck a medium-sized bag from under the desk. He tore off the receipt, placed it on top of the books, then slid the bag up and around the stack. "Enjoy," he said, holding the handle out, meaning the books, and _not_ his spouse.

"Thank you, I will." She smiled again. "You guys have a fantastic day."

"You too."

She marched to the door, just as Ty returned from his cleaning routine, setting his equipment down by the door. He was smiling, sweating and covered in blobs of water and soap.

Ty nodded a greeting as the woman went by—she answered by heaving a mournful sigh.

The window-washer wrinkled his nose, turned to watch the customer as she left, then turned back to Zane. "Lone Star, am I hearing things, or did that women just _sigh_ at me?"

"You're not hearing things, no."

"Okay, and uh, _why_ is a strange woman sighing at me?"

Zane seized the opportunity to have some fun at his husband's expense. "She was buying a bunch of psychology books. She's studying for her Masters degree, writing her thesis on people who distrust animals for irrational reasons. I told her how much you hated squirrels, she thought you might be a good candidate for inclusion."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"So, what, she wants to stick some electrodes on my head while she shows me photos of squirrels, see how my brain waves react?"

"No."

Ty frowned. "Wait a minute, does she want to use me or not?"

"See, that's the thing. She _thought_ you'd be a good candidate, until I told her you hate horses as well. And moths. And spiders. And chipmunks. Oh, and that you're not terribly fond of dogs, either."

"And?"

"She said you're no use to her after all cus you'd be way off the end of the scale." Zane held up his hands in defeat. "Apparently, anything more than three animal phobias means you're a _serious_ kook."

Ty huffed and narrowed his eyes. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

"Course I'm fucking pulling your leg," Zane retorted. "You think I'd ever be cruel enough to let some woman use you as a subject for her psychology thesis?"

"Nice to know you actually care."

Zane shook his head. "Not cruel to you, dummy, cruel to _her_." He snorted, remembering Ty's complaint about moths. "An hour in a lab setting with you, she'd develop an erratic flight pattern all of her own."

Ty sniffed. "Beneath me anyway."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"She's only doing a Masters degree. My irrational animal fears are _easily_ worth a PhD."

Zane grinned. "I hate to tell you this, Meow Mix, but you're a doctorate subject all on your own."

"So if it's not some bullshit about how much I hate squirrels, why the fuck _did_ she sigh at me when she left?"

"She worked up a good head of steam watching your window washing routine, and she was kind of annoyed when I told her you were a taken man."

Ty held up a warning finger. "I swear to God, Garrett, you don't stop with this lying crap, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass up one side of the alley and back down the other."

"That's the God's honest truth, I swear," Zane protested.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Ty huffed again. "Well, that's too bad, cus I wasn't washing the window for _her_."

"Damn right you weren't."

"Aww, what's the matter, hoss?" Ty asked, fake-creasing his brows. "You feeling all possessive and threatened?"

"All I'm saying is, you ever wash the windows that way for anyone other than me or the cats, I'm gonna kick _your_ sorry ass up one side of the alley and back down the other."

The rapid pitter-patter of paws drew Ty's attention down to the floor. At his feet, Cricket wailed and snaked round his legs, demanding attention and hugs. And possibly some wet food, as well.

Ty leaned down to scoop her up, cradled her like a fuzzy child and scratched her chest between her front paws. "You okay there, baby girl?" he murmured to his purring pet. "You didn't hurt yourself falling down the gap in the shelf?"

Cricket bleeked and kneaded the air.

Ty smiled. "Yeah, you're fine. Nothing injured except your pride." He gave her a quick kiss on the head, then carefully set her back down on the floor. Cuddles received and human submission confirmed, she trotted off to rejoin her brother in their bed.

Ty waved at the pristine glass. "Nice and clean now, huh?"

"They sure are."

"Don't suppose you want to help me clean the customer bathrooms as well?"

Not even remotely, but he shouldn't leave all the errands to Ty. Zane's lips twitched. Just because he didn't like to clean didn't mean he couldn't have fun. "I'll help," he started, "but only if I can clean all the mirrors."

"What's so important about cleaning the mirrors?"

Zane gave a nonchalant shrug. "No reason. I guess it's just something I can see myself doing." He waited for the shoe to drop.

Ty heaved the mother of all disgusted, disgruntled sighs. "Jesus, Garrett, remind me, why the _fuck_ did I marry you again?"

"You ever decide you've had enough, I'm sure the woman who just bought all those books would be happy to take you off my hands."

"Nuh uh, for better or worse, remember? You're not getting off that goddamn easy."

"Right now, I'm not getting off at all."

"Okay, I'm sorry, _which_ one of us is the filthy bastard again?"

"Pretty sure we _both_ fit the bill."

Ty snorted and moved back to the door to collect his abandoned cleaning supplies. "My ma always told me the secret to a successful relationship was to have a bunch of fun stuff in common."

"And being a filthy bastard counts as fun stuff?"

"Does in my book, yeah."

"Probably a good thing we're married, then."

"I suppose," Ty half-heartedly said.

Now it was Zane's turn to huff. "The fuck does _that_ mean?"

"It means I guess you'll do."

"You know what I _won't_ be doing in a hurry if you keep running your mouth like that?"

"What?"

"You," Zane shot back.

Ty frowned. "Wait a minute, isn't it usually me who threatens _you_ with the sex ban?"

"The occasional dose of role reversal never does a healthy relationship any harm."

"Really?"

"I've always thought so, yeah."

Ty gave him a shit-eating grin, then held out the bucket and sponge. "If that's the case, how about I sit on my ass, while _you_ vacuum and wash the hardwood floor?"


End file.
